


And On Earth, Peace, And Goodwill To Men

by BainAduial



Series: A Minbari Courtship [4]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: M/M, Religious Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BainAduial/pseuds/BainAduial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment on an important night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And On Earth, Peace, And Goodwill To Men

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of the 2008 Advent Challenge on the Marcus/Neroon Yahoo Group, and ended up being a Minbari Courtship Universe missing scene. It falls in the middle of Part 3 of A Minbari Courtship.
> 
> The song referenced is Christmas 1915, as sung by Celtic Thunder. Lyrics are included at the end.

Marcus sang softly along with the music playing over the room’s hidden speakers as he reverently opened the small box containing the few precious things he’d been able to save from the family vault on Arisia. There wasn’t much there. An old, leather-encased book was handled with extreme care as he set it in a prominent place on the table, followed by two small gold rings and a handful of singed pictures. Underneath the pictures was something wrapped in soft white cloth, and Marcus pulled it out reverently, placing it beside the other items on the table before setting the carved wooden box aside and standing to inspect his morning’s handiwork.

The tree he’d found wasn’t quite a pine tree, but then, it never had been on the mining colony either. The only times they’d had real pine trees, they’d been visiting his mother’s family on earth. But the bluish-green needles of the hardy Minbari equivalent gave off a slightly spicy scent, and set off the ornaments he’d collected nicely. There weren’t many of them, but the Minbari were masters at working with crystal and glass, and when he’d explained what he wanted the Worker Caste Star Riders had risen to the challenge eagerly. He carefully placed the last few ornaments, a pair of glittering white angels, and stepped back, flicking the switch to the side that lit the tree. Like generations of humans, the Minbari had been wary of setting candles amongst the branches, but the newly constructed lights functioned beautifully. They were pale, and with the clear and white ornaments they made the tree look as though it had been decorated by ice fairies. Marcus thought that it was one of the best Christmas trees he’d seen, whether it was actual pine or not.

A sound at the door made him turn, and he smiled to see his fiancé, Neroon, enter, arms full of a wriggling bundle of energy more usually known as Fara. 

“Marcuth!” the child enthused, grinning and showing the gap where her front teeth had been until a few days before. She leaped for him, secure in the knowledge that he’d never let her hit the floor, and he laughed and swung her about, careful of the tree. When he’d set her back on the thickly-carpeted floor, she began examining it with interest.

“What’th thith?” she asked curiously, poking one of the small glass bells carefully. Unlike a human child, she didn’t have to be told to take care with the delicate ornaments.

Marcus gestured Neroon to take a seat on the low couch near the table, moving over to his small kitchen to collect three mugs of the cider he had heating on the stove. He’d made it as close to his mother’s recipe as possible, considering that he was using alien spices and alien not-quite-apples that looked more like a cross between a pear and a pomegranate. Neroon’s sister had helped him choose the right combinations, when he’d explained the importance of the holiday to her a few days ago. 

“It’s a beautiful tree, Marcus,” Neroon offered as he took a cup of the cider and sipped it, smiling appreciatively.

“It did turn out rather well,” Marcus agreed. “Fara? Would you like to put the star on the top?”

Fara looked around. “What thtar?” she lisped, little forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why doeth it go on top?”

Marcus chuckled. “If you sit still with us and drink your cider, I’ll tell you a story, and then you can put the star up, how about that?” he offered. Fara was growing up to be better educated on Human – or at least, British – folk history than most Minbari diplomats ever managed.

“Thtory!” the child demanded, squirming down between Marcus and Neroon.

Marcus lifted the leather book case carefully. He’d never shown it to anyone but Neroon, but now seemed like a good time. “First, let me show you something,” he began, opening the clasps on the case carefully, handling it as though it was a delicate archaeological treasure. Which, in a sense, it was. The bible had been passed down, father to son, in the Cole family since at least the time of Queen Victoria. Quite likely longer. Fara’s eyes widened at the strange, ancient book. 

“This,” Marcus told her, as Christmas carols continued to play softly in the background, “is my family holy book. It’s very old. I only take it out twice a year, on very special occasions. One of those is tomorrow. It’s a day called Christmas. Today is Christmas Eve. Christmas is a very, very old holy day,” the Minbari word for holiday had never managed to lose its religious meaning, the  
way the English one had, “and some of its traditions are even older. Like the tree. The tree comes from a time long before Christmas was celebrated, when the holy day was the day of the winter solstice. A pine log would be taken and lit, so that on the longest night of the year there would be light until the sun came up again.”

“Did they think it wouldn’t?” the child asked, puzzled. “Thilly. The thun alwayth cometh up.”

Marcus shared a smile with his fiancé. “I think they knew that, but it was a very long, cold, dark night, and lighting a big fire and having a feast with friends and family made it easier to bear,” he clarified. “Now, some years after that, there was a great empire. It was called Rome, and it covered most of Europe and Asia.”

“That’th the big purple one, right?” Fara asked, remembering her map lessons a few weeks before.

“And the red one,” Neroon added helpfully.

“Right,” Marcus nodded. “Now, in this empire lived a group of people called Jews, who were kept separate because of their religion. They believed in the coming of a saviour, sent by God, who would bring peace to the world. I think they thought he would come in a blaze of glory and strike down their enemies.”

“Did he?” Neroon asked, curious now. He’d heard the story of Easter many months before on Babylon 5, but he hadn’t yet heard the beginning of the tale.

Marcus shook his head. “No. He came as we all do. An angel -”

“What’th an angel?” Fara demanded.

Marcus chuckled, and got up to take one of the ornaments he’d just hung from the tree. “This is an angel. They’re the messengers of God. They bring good news.” He didn’t think just now was the time to get into the other things angels had brought over the years. Fara hadn’t yet quite grasped the subtler grey areas that were needed to understand large portions of the holy book on the table.

“Lookth like a Vorlon,” Fara argued. Marcus stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. Somehow, the image of a Vorlon at the birth of Christ just couldn’t help but get lodged in his brain.

“So what did this angel do?” Neroon prompted, when Marcus had regained some of his composure.

“Well, he came to a woman named Mary, and told her that she was to have a son,” Marcus smiled. “She was very surprised, because she and her ma’fela, Joseph, had only just started courting. But the angel said that God wished her to carry this baby, and she agreed.” 

Both Minbari just nodded, and Marcus shook his head. It figured that the one part of the story that had boggled humans for eons would be the one that the Minbari accepted most easily.

“Well, while she was pregnant, the emperor in Rome called for a census. Everyone had to return to the birthplace of their Clan to be registered. So Joseph and Mary packed for a journey and travelled from their home in the town of Nazareth to the town of Bethlehem, where Joseph’s ancestors had lived. The night they reached Bethlehem was cold, and because of the census many more people than usual had come to the town. They looked for a place to stay, but they were turned away. Everywhere was full. Finally, they tried the last inn, and the innkeeper saw how tired Mary was, and said that he had no room left in his inn, but that in his stables there was warm straw and blankets.”

“Didn’t the animalth mind?” Fara asked. She had a very limited concept of animals, only really being acquainted with a couple of the estate goks, who did mind. They minded everything. Loudly.

Marcus shook his head. “These were farm animals, Fara. They were quite used to people. But while Mary and Joseph had been travelling, other people had heard of their miracle. King Herod – a King is like an Alyt or Clan Elder, Fara, and Herod ruled over a large area that included Bethlehem – felt threatened, and sent three of his wisest advisors to bring him news of the baby. The angel met them as they travelled in a great caravan, and told them that they would find the baby wrapped in blankets lying in a manger in Bethlehem, and they would know the place by the great star that shone above.”

“Did they believe it?” Neroon asked.

“Wouldn’t you?” Marcus chuckled. “They believed enough to go to Bethlehem, anyway. And the angel also appeared to shepherds in the fields, and they were awed and afraid. It gave them the same message; that the saviour had been born, and could be found lying in a stable in Bethlehem, heralded by a great star. And they took their lambs and went to see.”

“Why?” Fara asked. “Why did all thothe people need to thee a baby?”

“Well,” Marcus said, “Because the baby wasn’t just the saviour of one group, you see? He came to unite mankind, and offer everyone who lived a place in heaven. So the wealthy wise men came, bringing great gifts, and the shepherds, poorest of the poor, came bringing their sheep. And they did find the baby, because Mary had given birth that night, and had wrapped him in warm blankets and laid him in a manger full of hay, because she had no crib. And over it all hung the biggest star they’d ever seen, while angel choirs sang above them to tell the good news.”

“Ith that why you want to put a thtar on the tree?” Fara asked, eyes wide.

Marcus nodded. “It is. Some people put an angel on top, but my family always used a star. Would you like to help me put it up? You have to be very careful with it; it’s very old.”

Fara nodded, and Marcus picked up the white-wrapped bundle on the table. Carefully, he unwrapped the layers of cloth that protected it. The star hadn’t survived the Shadow attack on his home unscathed; what had once been bright silver and glittering white stones was now tarnished and cracked in places, and few stones remained. But it had survived, and Marcus thought that it meant more now that it wasn’t perfect. Because the baby it heralded hadn’t been perfect either. He’d been human. Only that. That was the greatest miracle of all, really.

Neroon balanced Fara carefully on his shoulders, and Marcus handed her the old star. She reverently fitted it over the top of the tree, making sure it was secure before letting go of it, and then smiled widely at Marcus.

“Now it’th all done like it’th thuppothed to be?” she asked.

Marcus nodded. “All like it’s supposed to be,” he confirmed solemnly. “I even told you the same story my father told me, when we put our tree up. Thank you.”

She nodded just as solemnly. “I like that thtory.”

Marcus chuckled. “I always did, too. But I think it’s lesson time for you, young lady.”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded, giving him a fierce hug before scampering out of the room quickly. The door slammed closed on Marcus’ laughter.

“It’s an interesting story,” Neroon said. “But it didn’t work.”

Marcus gave him a long look, then shrugged. “No,” he acknowledged. “It didn’t. Even more than two thousand years later, humanity hasn’t found peace. Maybe we never will. But for one night, one shining night, we could believe it was possible. And it’s that hope that keeps us going sometimes, when everything else is lost. There is a darker side to Christmas, of course. Herod was so afraid of Jesus that he ordered the death of every male child under the age of two. One of the gifts brought by the wise men was myrrh, a holy oil used to embalm the dead. They knew, or were guided by something outside their comprehension, that not all would be light from that point on. But none of that mattered the night he was born.”

Neroon looked thoughtfully at the tree. “One man means so much to your people?” he asked.

Marcus shrugged. “As Valen does to yours. And for longer. This is three thousand years of history and tradition, of war and peace and hope and hate and love and joy, all wrapped up into one night, one symbolic moment when the entire world held its breath and waited. Not for the coming of a warrior crowned in glory to sweep the unclean from the world, but for the birth of a tiny baby, born to a carpenter and his wife, who would grow up and become a great teacher. A man who would suffer and die without once raising his own hand in violence. A man who would speak as easily to whores as to kings.”

“I believe I understand,” Neroon said. “Is this night always a night of peace for your people? I remember a night during the war, when none of your ships flew against us.”

Marcus smiled at that, and got up to shuffle through the songs on his player until the one he wanted came up. “Here, listen. This is from our first World War, when soldiers on both sides of the battlefield, for one night, put aside their weapons and sang of peace. All of them, regardless of nation or affiliation, unified for one night. If any of our leaders had been able to take the power of that moment and reshape our future with it, we might never have fought you. Since the first Christmas Day, great empires have fallen, and risen, and fallen. Kingdoms have come and gone. Wars have been fought, and lost. There has been poverty, and famine, and plague, and attempts at genocide on several different fronts. And yet, through all of it, one of the few things that has survived has been Christmas, and an abiding hope for peace and brotherhood between all men. No Empire could destroy it, no weapon could silence it.”

Neroon sat quietly, listening to the song as the lights of the tree twinkled before them and Marcus curled into his side. The human’s eyes were completely clear of shadows for the first time since Neroon had known him. Perhaps there was something to this Christmas idea after all.

***

Christmas 1915 lyrics (as sung by Celtic Thunder):

1915 on Christmas Day  
On the western front the guns all died away  
And lying in the mud on bags of sand  
We heard a German sing from no man's land  
He had tenor voice so pure and true  
The words were strange but every note we knew  
Soaring o’er the living dead and dammed  
The German sang of peace from no man's land

They left their trenches and we left ours  
Beneath tin hats smiles bloomed like wild flowers  
With photos, cigarettes, and pots of wine  
We built a soldier's truce on the front line  
Their singer was a lad of 21  
We begged another song before the dawn  
And sitting in the mud and blood and fear  
He sang again the song all longed to hear

Silent night, no cannons roar  
A king is born of peace for evermore  
All's calm, all's bright  
All brothers hand in hand  
In 19 and 15 in no man's land

And in the morning all guns boomed in the rain  
And we killed them and they killed us again  
At night they charged we fought them hand to hand  
And I killed the boy that sang in no man's land

Silent night no cannons roar  
A king is born of peace for evermore  
All's calm, all's bright  
All brothers hand in hand  
And that young soldier sings  
And the song of peace still rings  
Though the captains and all the kings  
Built no man's land


End file.
